The InstigatorThe People Who Shaped Me Writing Contest was a part of the 2023 Salem Reads: One Book, One Community program, which delved into the themes and messages of Born a Crime by Trevor Noah. The contest invited writers to submit essays, creative nonfiction and fictionalized stories that honored real people who had a profound impact on their lives.
1st place
Trail of Breadcrumbs by Mei-Yu Heras-Leung
Whispers of the past, cling to me like hair stuck to clothes. As I reminisce on what we used to be and how we used to live; smiles, laughter, no stress because time was not fleeting. But time was fleeting. Time went so fast, unseen, invisible, rapids of time ran and ran before I could barely even grasp at it. If I knew you would disappear like the sneaky squirrel stealing seeds from the birds outside, I would have written more about you, cherished our time together like a precious jade, your smile, your kindness, and your food. Now, I can only share the swept up remains. The crumbs of us and our time together, muddled memories of the past.
“Wake-up, it’s time to get up.” Her soft voice raises me from sleep and I barely open my eyes. I can hear water running. The shower is waiting for me in the bathroom. This is how it always is. A warm ready-made shower that is just for me. It’s also always early morning here. The light barely showing, the sun peeking out but still too tired to really look, dew fresh on the grass, sometimes even frost.
The smell of pancakes, eggs and bacon. Weekend meals are the best. I like watching. I like helping. Crack, crack, plop. One egg, two eggs, crack, crack, plop, plop. Five eggs cracked and plopped into a bowl. You use a fork to mix and then add your desired seasonings. It’s always pepper and garlic salt for us. “Did you eat the raw egg?” “No..” I lie and get back to mixing. It’s tasty, but I don’t want to get scolded. She knew then, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she tells me that scrambled eggs should be cooked slow, on low heat. You have to wait and watch. Watch for the edges of the egg mixture to cook and then that’s when you strike. Grab one edge of the slightly cooked egg with a red silicone spatula and pull it into the middle. Let the egg mixture cover up the pan’s bottom. Continue doing this to the other sides, until you can use the spatula to break up the eggs. That’s how you make the best scrambled eggs in the world. Brighter than the sun, fluffy and soft, warm and made with care. You taught me how to make eggs just like yours.
Pancakes are different. Letters imprinted onto one side, our initials and cute hearts. “Don’t press down on it.” She’s told me at least a hundred times, but I still do it anyway. I never knew why, but now I don’t press them down, no matter how tempting.
Cooking is fun. You can make multiple dishes at once, each one as tasty as the one before, as memorable. Food is life. Life is food. We need food to survive and have energy for the rest of our day. But food always goes away. In my mouth, in my stomach, gone by the next day. It never stays forever. You were like food because you were warm and made me happy, but eventually left.
Lunch was good too. Corn tortillas with shredded cheddar cheese. It was mostly our hurry meal, when we needed something quick because we were going soon. You made it a lot faster but you were still patient with me. Warm quesadillas with fruit. No one else makes quesadillas like you did. No one else cuts them into little triangles. You’re the only one that makes them exactly how I like it.
When I saw you again, I wanted to cry. I truly thought you would never show up in my life again. As soon as my eyes caught you, they started to tear up. It was a sudden reaction and you knew because you always know. You know me. I wanted to hug you and hold you close forever because I was so afraid when I let go, you would disappear for a long time, and I might really never see you again. We talked. How have I been, what I’ve been up to. It’s always about me for you. A lot has happened. A lot has changed. I really missed you. Why did you leave me?
When it was over, we hugged. Right then, it was beautiful and sad at the same time. We said goodbye, but not forever. We meet with each other sometimes. I don’t think the same way I did when you first left. I still miss you, but there’s no longer guilt or anger or sadness. There’s only memories, happy and sometimes a little sad. I hold on to and cherish them. Our memories don’t haunt me anymore, at least most of the time. You can’t get rid of certain feelings or thoughts even if you really want to. Still, they are my happy thoughts. Food is life. Life is food. So what if food doesn’t always come out the way I want, it’s a learning experience for me and in the end it might even taste good. I am an ever-changing human, growing and developing as I continue to live. You helped shape me. You are a part of who I am today. Everything you made for me, everything you said and taught me, it has all contributed to the person I am now. So I’ll follow the trail of breadcrumbs. I’ll pick them up, one by one and gently hold them in my hands. I’ll continue writing about everything I do remember, because these are some of the memories that have made me, me.
Thank you, thank you for the food and memories.
This story originally ran in Press Play Salem issue 16 (Spring/Summer 2023)
